


Chicken Soup for the Hockey Player's Soul

by aqualined (inabstract)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabstract/pseuds/aqualined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wants to do a little something nice for Paulie for a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Soup for the Hockey Player's Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caperg33l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caperg33l/gifts).



> So Lacye/[caperg33l](http://archiveofourown.org/users/caperg33l/) was all _"my kingdom for fic where neal makes pauly shitty eggs and then they snuggle on the couch, being careful of pauly's arm"_ and I said I’d try it out...this is what happened.
> 
> Man, this fic got away from me. I’m so sorry this turned out more along the lines of Nealer’s adventures in cooking. :| But hey, I actually finished something hockey-related so there’s that. Major apologies for the cheesy title.
> 
> Enjoy?

James isn't so good at this being an adult thing. He's 25, living in a half-furnished house with an empty fridge (if you discount all the beer and Gatorade) and a dog he doesn't get to see half as often as he'd like. It's a little depressing to say the least.

It's also the main reason why he spends most mornings over at Paulie's mooching off his Minnesotan hospitality and ridiculously good scrambled eggs and toast. But now, Paul's out of the lineup with a broken wrist of all things and James thinks maybe he owes him a little something for a change.

\--

The first part's easy. James scours Amazon for a couple of shows he knows Paulie hasn't caught up on yet and rush orders the DVDs along with an obnoxiously gaudy bejeweled sleeve for Paul's cast. It might get James a punch from Paulie's good arm, but it'll definitely be worth the look on his face once he sees it.

The next thing James does is give his mom a call asking her for any recipes she thinks Paul might like. He's not so sure she thinks he can handle cooking them all by himself (if the skeptical tone and choked back laughter is any indication), but his mom promises to email him a couple anyway. 

Once he gets the notifications on his phone, James scrolls through the email and chooses the simplest looking one to try out first, jotting down the necessary ingredients on a post-it before grabbing his keys and heading out to the store.

\--

Okay, so maybe James hadn't anticipated there’d so many options for _chicken noodle soup_ of all things. Picking up the meat and vegetables were thankfully pretty straightforward and he reaches for a box Disney Princess-shaped pasta for kicks before spending the rest of his time debating between types of chicken broth. (He winds up getting three.)

He double-checks his list about five times more before deciding he's had enough and picks up a six-pack of Molson's before heading to the self-checkout. James impulsively grabs some chocolate bars and a teddy bear clutching a heart-shaped pillow declaring, _get well soon_. He's not planning on bringing it to dinner (he’s not _that_ far gone), but James figures it might be nice to leave in Paulie's mailbox as a surprise or whatever. 

After he gets back to his place, James tosses the chicken into the fridge and everything else on the kitchen counter before greeting an antsy husky and taking her for a quick run.

\--

The recipe seems simple enough, which is why James is so perplexed at the soggy, but somehow half-burnt mess stewing on his stove top not an hour later. He debates calling his mom to walk him through it, but doesn’t know if he’s in the mood for her brand of babying yet mockingly condescending teasing so he summons Geno over instead with a text that hopefully conveys his urgency.

G walks in about an hour later, all sleep-rumpled and just about ready to punch James when he sees him, but after some good old-fashioned bribery (aka favors re: a certain captain of theirs) and Balto whining and looking cute for all her worth, Geno gives in. (James most certainly does not give him a huge bear hug, but it’s a near thing.)

\--

Geno frowns down at the misshapen bits of green and orange scattered across the cutting board. “This all wrong, Nealsy.”

“ _Hey_ ,” James starts all indignant. “I worked hard on those.”

G shakes his head. “Give me new celery and carrots and I show you how it’s done.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” James mutters, reaching into his fridge. “You’re the culinary expert.” 

Geno gives him a mischievous grin in response, which naturally prompts a mini food fight involving James’ rejected vegetables. He never did claim to be the mature one in the relationship.

\--

“Damn, that actually smells amazing.” James admits, staring into the boiling pot of broth and expertly cut up pieces of chicken. He reaches for a ladle to sample some, but Geno comes out of fucking nowhere to smack his hand away. “Fucking _ow_ ,” James rubs absently at the back of his hand. “You’re not my real mom.”

“Close enough.” G shrugs. “Not done yet. Still need add pepper and potatoes.”

James heaves a sigh, but complies and follows the rest of Geno’s directions, while managing to sneak a few pieces of chicken for himself and Balto, ignoring G’s disapproving looks.

\--

Geno explains that the soup might take a while so the two of them settle down on the couch for some Call of Duty.

“So you make soup for Paulie?”

“Shut up.” James blushes, averting his eyes back to the TV to make a perfect headshot on Geno’s man. 

G curses and before long, gets James back three times in a row. “We still no talk about this?” Geno asks sincerely. 

“We gonna talk about you and Sid anytime soon?” James shoots back. 

“Point,” Geno relents. “But I make him food all the time. You never cook. Must be special occasion.”

“S’nothing big. Just y’know, I wanted to do something after the whole wrist thing.” He scowls at the stupidly fond look Geno sends his way. “Oh my god, stop with the big eyes.” 

“It’s okay you so sweet on Paulie.” G prods James’ thigh with his foot. “I know you still love me best.”

It takes some valiant effort on his part not to smother Geno with a couch cushion.

\--

Before he heads out, Geno helps James pack the soup in some spill-proof tupperware and gives Balto a fond pat on the head.

“Thanks, man.” James nudges his hip against G’s. “Like seriously, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“We friends,” Geno says earnestly. “So I come help even if emergency is stupid.” 

James punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, I think you’ve more than overstayed your welcome.”

Geno just laughs and tells him to send Paulie his regards.

\--

Paulie gives James a strange look in lieu of a proper greeting when he sees him trying to juggle a bag full of DVDs and beer, a tightly sealed container filled with soup and a leash with an energetic dog attached to it.

James shrugs. “Thought you could use some cuddle buddies,” he offers earnestly. Balto wags her tail in agreement before nuzzling at Paul’s good hand for attention.

While Paulie absently pets at her head, James sets the soup gently down on the counter before rummaging for a pair of spoons. 

Paul makes a slight face. “No bowls?” 

James shoves a spoon in his hand before directing Paulie over to the couch. “Well, _I’m_ not gonna wash them and you’re not supposed to do any heavy lifting so shut the hell up and eat.”

“Pushy.” Paulie studies the contents of the container. “You make this yourself?”

James rolls his eyes. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re implying.” He sets up the laptop on the coffee table and settles down next to Paulie, while Balto curls up by their feet. 

“Shut up.” Paul flicks him in the thigh. “I was gonna say that this was nice of you.” He takes a small sip. “Not bad.” He examines his spoon a little closer. “Cute Disney theme you’ve got going on here.” 

“Hey,” James starts indignantly. “I can do _some_ things right, you know.” 

Paul raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, maybe I had _some_ help from G. But that right there is like 90% me, okay? So enjoy it while it lasts, buddy. I’ll try my hand at shitty eggs and burnt toast in the morning.” 

Paulie gives him an amused look, but they spend the rest of the show taking turns eating spoonfuls of soup.

\--

They’re comfortably snuggled under a quilt drinking their Molson’s and watching some highlights, when James remembers something.

“Oh, hey.” James reaches down and rummages through the bag he brought over. “Got you a little gift.” 

“Yeah?” Paulie almost sounds excited, but that quickly dies into a horrific grimace once James tosses the bright, rhinestone-studded sleeve at him. 

“Not gonna put it on?” James teases.

Paul scowls, but puts down his beer and dutifully slides the sleeve over his cast, waving his wrist at James. “Happy, Nealer?”

“Ecstatic.” James throws him a cheeky grin. “You should totally wear that to practice. The guys’ll love that.” 

“Nah,” Careful of his injured wrist, Paulie shifts his position so his legs are now draped across James’ lap. Reflexively, James’ hands curl around his ankles, rubbing warm, gentle circles. “We’ll keep this just for you and me.”

**Author's Note:**

> No idea if James Neal actually has a dog, but there _was_ that super cute pic on Instagram so for the purposes of this fic we’ll go with yes. And yes, I named her Balto. GREATEST FUCKING HUSKY EVER, OKAY.


End file.
